


Sometimes, People Understand.

by Elkian (SuperImposed)



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Gender-Neutral Robin, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Not Exactly Shippy Not Exactly Not, Other, Recovery, The Epilogue Aversa Deserved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 21:52:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8464393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperImposed/pseuds/Elkian
Summary: Aversa has had a rough decade+. Sometimes, people understand.





	

 

“Aversa?”

 

She flinches despite herself, one arm making an aborted slashing motion, nails outstretched. “Don’t _call_ me that.”

The ever-helpful tactician comes to a halt several paces away. “Very well,” they say, “what should I call you?”

Her face twists in clear agony and she turns away, hands coming to cover her face, grasp at her skull. “I don’t.. know,” she chokes, “I don’t remember!”

Robin takes a step farther and kneels down, seemingly uncaring of their knees grinding into the dirt. “It’s all right,” they say, voice soft. “Think about what you’d like to be called. Several of us already go by assumed names - no one would care should you do the same.”

She nods loosely, still hunched in on herself inside the darkness of the tent. “What are you here for, anyway? Come to mock your fallen foe?”

The tactician offers her a tin bowl of porridge. “Come to make sure you’re eating properly, actually.” Her bitter laugh and suspicious glances make them continue, “You don’t have to eat this, or right now. But please eat something today.”

The tactician goes to stand, halting mid-motion as one spindly hand reaches out. “Ah.”

“I wouldn’t put it past anyone to poison me, but I’m not sure I care,” she murmurs. In less than a minute she’s shoveling the porridge down gracelessly - Robin offers her some water, which, like all the other Plegians, she guzzles as if it’s the last she’ll ever see.

Once she nears the end of the bowl, she pauses long enough to wipe her mouth and ask, “Why are… all of you being so nice to me?”

The strategist appears to consider that, as they finally stand, accepting the tin dishes. “Well, I can’t speak for anyone else, but… I do care about you.”

She snorts a derisive laugh. “Oh, do you now? Do you finally feel the lures of filial love?” Trying for a coy glance over her shoulder, she adds: “Or perhaps I inspire… _other_ feelings in you.”

The sad look Robin gives her is more than enough to make her deflate. Instead of answering, they smile gently and say, “You can come to the mess tent any time you feel hungry - I’ll save you a spot, if you like.”

 

She can’t find a retort in time, and simply watches as the tactician walks away.

 

\---

 

Eventually, she picks herself up and heads towards the scent of cooking meat and the sound of chatter. The light cast from the tent’s entrance is more inviting that it has any right to be, but still she hesitates.

 

“You can go in, you know. They don’t bite.” Aversa - and she can’t help but still think of herself as Aversa, dammit - would never admit to jumping, but the voice behind her does startle her slightly. “Though I might.”

 

She glances back, and yep, it’s Tharja - one of the few she had taken notice of, before everything happened. The dark mage gives her a bland look and strides forward, passing her. “C’mon, before all the dessert is gone.”

Though she’d never admit it, Aversa is grateful for the action - she hurries to join her fellow Plegian, and true to Tharja’s words, hardly anyone looks up at the entry. Chrom’s expression is almost - relieved, and it makes Aversa feel weird and squishy inside, to the point that she’s grateful when his redheaded companion draws his attention away.

She follows Tharja into the mess line, almost bumping into some ridiculously tall, armored oaf as she did so. She’d barely had time to register his apology before the line moved, and suddenly she was sitting at the corner of one of the tables, Tharja positioned across from her.

Aversa shifted in her seat (didn’t _squirm_ like an uneasy child) as she realized that they were alone at the table - until a tow-headed, laughing boy plopped into the seat next to her, seemingly uncaring of the blood still soaked into his robes. Tharja bantered with him for a few moments, until a different redhead - this one a wyvern rider, it seemed - towed him away, scolding his uncleanliness.

A veritable procession of Shepherds followed - cheerful and tiny Nowi, who took the bloodied seat next to Aversa without a care and began chattering brightly at both of them as she dug into the bear meat with both hands; mild and kind Stahl, who checked that Tharja was eating enough until she threatened to poke him with her fork; _Gangrel_ , of all people, who shot Aversa a grin as easy as hers felt, and broke into falsely bright conversation until Tharja glared him into switching sides of the table, making room next to her for Donnel, sweet and bright-eyed and clearly enamored with the dark mage.

It felt very strange for Aversa, to sit there and, _Yes, Mother,_ eat her dinner while practically no one seemed to take notice of her. And then Robin arrived.

“Ah, Av- good evening,” they corrected, smiling warmly at her. Before she could respond, _Tharja_ of all people greeted them with honeyed tones, making a good-natured Donnel - who Aversa had gathered to be Tharja’s husband \- move aside so the tactician could sit next to her. From Robin’s response, this wasn’t a rare occurrence. They humored Tharja, greeted Donnel and Nowi, and gave Gangrel the same relieved smile as they had Aversa.

The strategist spoke in neutral, friendly tones with all of them for a few moments - and had the good grace to look embarrassed when Aversa caught them glancing at her plate - before rising, giving them a wave, and heading over to Chrom’s table.

 

“They’ll be back,” Gangrel said quietly, the first time he’d really addressed her directly - despite not saying her name nor so much as glancing at her. “They visit every table every night and make nice with everyone.”

“...I see.” Her voice was raspier than she remembered, and she frowned - how long had she been wallowing in self-pity?

Nowi’s incessant cheer thankfully broke into her thoughts. “Yeah, Robin’s super-nice! They’re teaching me all kindsa things about,” her expression became one of intense concentration, “trapping animals, and navigation, and m- metro… rorology?”

“Metyerology,” Donnel supplied, and the tiny manakete nodded decisively. Unfortunately, this prompted both him and Tharja to break out in unending praise for the strategist, but at least it distracted Aversa from her bleak musings.

 

\---

 

It was - some time later (Aversa had not been attending much to the passing of the days) that she visited the stables.

Something Robin, of course, had said prompted her to do so - when offering her different choices of garments, they’d asked, “Do you intend to stay a Dark Flier, or would you like to try something different?”

She hadn’t come to a conclusion about her class (though she’d accepted a more standard set of pegasus gear from the tactician, and a cavalier’s set of boots), but it had reminded her of something- some _one_ important.

She wasn’t even within fifty yards of the stable when a loud neigh broke the relative quiet of the camp, followed by a startled, human shout. Aversa barely noticed the pink form running out of the stable (and faceplanting) because here she was.

“Naia,” she breathed, stretching her arms out to encircle the pegasus’ neck. Her steed whickered and landed, calming almost instantly as Aversa gently stroked her head, her ears.

“Oh!” Aversa jolted out of her calm as the pink-clad rider staggered over to her, face covered in dust and one hand clutching a brush. “Hello there, it’s good to see you. I’m, uh, I’m Sumia.”

“Hello Sumia,” and she figured she could at least make an effort to be pleasant, considering… “have you been taking care of her for me?”

“I- yes, I have.” The other rider relaxed slightly, smiling far too warmly. “She missed you,” Sumia added softly, expression even warmer as she regarded the pegasus.

“...Thank you.” What else could she say? Naia shook herself, jostling Aversa slightly, but she daren’t let go. Actually… “May I borrow that?”

 

In the cool dark of the stable, she could drop the act a little and actually relax. Sumia had already done a superb job brushing Naia down, she grudgingly admitted, but this wasn’t about grooming so much as reassurance. Aversa softly hummed an old tune as she ran the brush down Naia’s dark coat and combed her fingers through Naia’s wavy mane.

 

“Oh. It’s you.” Aversa jerked out of her reverie to glare at the intruder, heart sinking at the words. A furred person - a taguel, most likely - regarded her with neutral red eyes. Despite the words, her tone wasn’t particularly hostile or disgusted. “She loves you, you know.”

It took Aversa a moment to understand, but she knew better than to question the phrasing. “I know,” she said instead.

The taguel’s stare was piercing, judgemental if not cruel. “Do well by her.”

“Of course I will,” the words out of her mouth before she could think and far softer than she liked to sound. But the taguel just nodded decisively, as if confirming something, and turned away without another word.

 

\---

 

“Do you love them?”

 

Gangrel halted mid-monologue, choking on air at the sudden question. Aversa (and she was starting to come to terms with the name) watched with interest, waiting for an answer.

 

The fallen king regained his composure with admirable ease, inhaled deeply, and gave her a cocky (fake) grin. “I’m sure I have no notion of what you mean, dear lady.”

The new falcon knight snorted and poked his shoulder lightly. “Oh please, don’t give me that. You know _exactly_ what I’m talking about.”

Gangrel dropped the facade then, looking pensive as he actually thought about the answer. It was interesting to see how he acted when not hexed to the nines with flattery and seduction spells.

“After all this, I’m going to try and revive Plegia. Did you know that?”

She blinked. “No, I didn’t. Sounds like you - or rather, the old you.”

The rogue laughed a little harshly. “It does, doesn’t it?” Sobering slightly, he continued. “After… me, and V- _him_ , and everything, our beloved motherland has been through quite a lot. I can’t say I’m the best man for the job, but I want to do what I can.”

“Hmm.” Aversa considered this. “Ah. You want the lovely tactician to help you rebuild.”

A more natural grin spread across Gangrel’s face. “I do indeed. And that loveliness is just icing.”

Aversa snorted again. “And I’m not enough for you?”

He cocked a brow at that. “Firstly, I’d thought you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. Secondly, we’ve seen how that particular set-up worked.”

A sigh. “I suppose that’s true. But with both of us in our right minds, working together?”

He shrugged. “The thing is, my dear, the _people_ won’t see it any different. But Robin has a good reputation at this point, and frankly, I trust them to run the country much more than myself.”

 

“...so, do you love them?”

 

Gangrel snarled and swatted at her shoulder as she laughed at his reddening face, but never denied the allegation.

 

\---

 

“I think he likes you.”

 

Robin’s grin grew wider, and slightly lopsided. “What makes you say that?”

Aversa rolled her shoulders in a shrug, chin resting on her hands. “He talks about you all the time, for one.”

A soft laugh. “That may be because I’m his only other friend… though Basilio seems to have warmed up to him after that disastrous drinking contest, so there’s hope yet.”

“Fair point. But I’m more interested in how _you_ feel about him, dear sibling.”

The tactician blinked, then glanced away as they thought. Their smile grew warmer, less amused and more fond, and Aversa stifled a chuckle.

Finally Robin sighed and shook their head, glancing back to her. “You may be on to something these, sister dear.”

 

\---

 

Aversa was packing in her tent. The sounds of camp were disjointed, unusually quiet and unusually loud in places, as thousands of her allies (and what a strange thought that was...) did the same.

Robin had stopped by every tent possible, and was now watching their ‘sister’ pack, saying little. Eventually, the thoughts they’d been stewing on rose to the surface.

“Plegia, huh.”

Aversa paused for an instant, then resumed the tedious task of folding and stowing her surprisingly large wardrobe. “Mmm.”

“You think… are you happy with that?”

Aversa considered that. “I… think so, yes. I may travel, if it doesn’t work out.” Her memories of Plegia weren’t particularly happy, but it still felt like _home_ in her heart. “I want to try.” She glanced over her shoulder at the quiet tactician. “What about you? I don’t recall you saying one way or the other.”

Robin smiled slightly. “Yes, Chrom’s been tearing his hair out a bit about that.” They shrugged loosely. “I’ll stay in Ylisse for a few months, then check in on you and Gangrel. After that… who knows.”

Aversa smiled back, the expression sincere for once. “Who knows.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure my intention here was Gangrel/Robin/Aversa ruling Plegia as the ultimate Power Trio, but it really was already finished and I didn't want to overextend or warp it to fit shipping in.  
> That's what sequels are for.  
> (If anyone has good name ideas for post-Aversa-Aversa I'm open. Inverse just seemed too close to really work.)


End file.
